So Not Brutal
by Larien Mithrandir
Summary: Nathan's bored, but an unexpected visitor shakes things up. Rated T for language, nudity, alcohol consumption, and questionable actions. Reviews are appreciated.


**A/N:** I started drawing a picture the other day of Pickles, and somehow, he ended up in nothing but a towel, leering sideways…He still doesn't have legs or a right hand…Then Nathan flowed forth from my pencil as the target of Pickles's leer. He was hiding sheepishly behind a towel, one foot drawn up from the ground…He is still missing that foot and the other leg…Anyways, this fanfiction became the result, because I was like, "Wait, why the hell would they be in that position?" Read, review, and enjoy!

~Larien~

Nathan sat in the hot tub, alone, laptop floating in front of him. The DSL was running a bit slow, and, quite frankly, he was getting bored sitting there waiting for his porn to load. Where was everybody at? He looked down at the tiny clock on the status bar and squinted. It was only 3:52 in the afternoon. They couldn't all be drunk yet. Well, Pickles, maybe, but that guy always had a drink in hand.

The burly front man caught a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to either side, looking for the source of movement. The only other living being in the room was a klokateer—Number 384, if Nathan's memory served him right. The bodyguard had an unmistakable scar on his left shoulder from a pyrotechnics accident.

"You!" Nathan bellowed. "C'mere." 384 did as he was told. "Where is Murderface?" Nathan loved to poke fun of the bassist.

384 cleared his throat and replied, "Lord Murderface is working with the producer, Dick Knubbler, on his side project down in the studio."

"Whoa! What?! Murderface is _working_?! Brutal. Well, what about Pickles?" He loved debating stuff with the scrawny drummer.

"I believe Lord Pickles is still sleeping, my lord."

Yeah, Nathan could believe that one. "Alright, what about Skwisgaar?" Maybe he could at least start brainstorming with the lead guitarist for ideas on the next album.

"Sir Ofdensen has confined Lord Skwigelf and Lord Wartooth to their respective rooms until further notice," 384 said gravely.

"What?! Why the hell'd he do that?!" Nathan bellowed.

384 rolled his eyes, an action not visible due to his hood. "Lord Skwigelf and Lord Wartooth were arguing about the possibility of Lord Wartooth having a guitar solo at the next concert. They had reverted to shouting in their native languages, and Sir Ofdensen felt that if he did not intervene, blood would be spilled between them."

Nathan grunted and smiled as he thought of the two Scandinavians tearing in to each other. Sure, Skwisgaar was older and maybe a little smarter, but Toki was ripped. The young rhythm guitarist would win on brute strength alone. The front man had watched, along with Skwisgaar and Murderface, as Toki had beaten that guy to death at the Snakes n' Barrels sober concert. He was sure Toki would have won. "Uh…You want to…join…me?" Nathan asked 384 finally.

"I cannot, sire. It is not allowed," 384 replied. Nathan turned his attention back to his laptop then, so the hooded man took it as his signal to return to his post at the door.

Again, Nathan caught the quick movement out of the corner of his eye. This time, he looked around to find Pickles stumbling into the room, Tequila Sunrise in hand. The redhead was clad only in his underwear and his green eyes were half-lidded. Nathan assumed the drummer had just woken up.

"Heeey, Nat'en!" Pickles called happily. He stood behind the dark-haired man and slipped his underwear off. Then he quickly climbed into the hot tub, careful not to spill his drink. "What're ya doin'?"

Nathan continued staring at the laptop, willing his porn to load faster. Much to his chagrin, the porn ignored him. "Trying to watch…porn…DSL's slow."

"Heh, brutal," the drummer replied. "Where's ev'rybody else?"

"They're busy. Dogface is actually _working_ with Knubbler. On that side project. Planet Piss. And Ofdensen grounded Skwisgaar and Toki because they were trying to kill each other. Wait, can the robot actually, uh…do that?"

Pickles thought for a minute. "Well, yeah, I gue—"

"FINALLY!" Nathan interrupted him. "Took forever for the tits to load!"

Pickles laughed at the short attention span of his band mate. "Dood, ye're like a squirrel!" He then took a long sip of his drink.

Nathan chose that exact moment to say, "Well, I'm just trying to get a nut." This corny pun caused the small drummer to spew his drink, which lead to the next set of events.

Pickles climbed out of the tub, toweled off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He stooped to pick up his empty glass and that's when it happened.

A distinct _Plop!_ was heard, causing both men to look into the tub. They did not expect to find a small, gray mouse swimming along, trying to keep its head above the water. Furthermore, Pickles did not expect Nathan's reaction.

"MOOOOOOUSSSSE!" Nathan roared an octave higher than anyone thought him capable of. He leapt from the tub, his porn forgotten, and did his best to hide behind Pickles (and a towel). The mouse struggled out of the tub and Nathan pranced on his tip-toes, squealing, "Ew! Gettit gettit gettit!" As the mouse scurried away, Pickles gave his front man a long, questioning, sideways glance.

After Nathan had calmed down considerably, Pickles broke out into the biggest grin the dark-haired man had ever seen. "What?" he growled, scowling and dropping his towel.

"Ye're afraid of a little mouse!" Pickles answered, bursting into a fit of laughter. "Dat…Dat's so…so naht brutal!" he said between laughs. "I c'n see why ya like cats so much!" The drummer had dropped his glass and taken to clutching at his sides.

"Yeah?" Nathan said, towering over the smaller man. "Neither is the sound you make when you take it up the ass."

Pickles looked up and stopped laughing abruptly as he stared into Nathan's demonic grin. "Uh…Nat'en? Dood? Now jest r'member, we're in the rec room. Don't do anyt'ing ya won't want da other guys ta wahlk in on." Nathan seemingly ignored the warning of his band mate and whipped the towel from the redhead's waist. "N-Nat'en?" The burly singer forced his prey to turn around. "Nat'en! Didja even hear me?!"

Nathan then hooked his arms around Pickles's waist, lifted him effortlessly, and tossed him into the hot tub. The laptop rocked a bit on its floating table, but remained miraculously unharmed. Pickles came up sputtering and squawked, "Dood, whet the hell?!"

"Don't make fun of me, asshole," Nathan smirked as he walked off to his room.


End file.
